


Priestly Duties

by seekingmoonscapes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Period-Typical Homophobia, Porn, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Priest Kink, Priest Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2016-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-23 19:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8339827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingmoonscapes/pseuds/seekingmoonscapes
Summary: James "Bucky" Barnes comes to church looking for salvation and finds nothing but damnation.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't know how this image go stuck in my head, but once it was it refused to let go until I'd written something, so here is my attempt at assuaging the demon...

Bucky was drunk. Not roaringly so, though he certainly had been earlier, and Jesus was staring down at him. Bucky couldn’t tell if he looked disappointed or disinterested. He supposed after a day of people begging help and forgiveness, even Jesus must have had enough come nightfall.

“James Barnes, why are you sprawling all over my pews at this time of night?”

Bucky grinned, not even looking away from the ceiling; he knew who it was, “’Lo Father. Nice night, ain’t it?”

“I suppose from your angle it might be. Did you know your jacket’s buttoned up wrong?”

Bucky stared down at himself, “Oh yeah!” He grinned again, finally seeing the priest staring down at him (and ain’t that a first, even when Bucky’s sitting down Father Steve only a couple of inches taller than him.) Father Steve didn’t smile back, just twisted his mouth in a way that reminded Bucky of his mother, God rest her soul.

“You know it’s almost midnight?”

“Well the night might still be young, Father, but I’m getting on a bit now, you know?”

“You’re 24.” Father Steve replied, unimpressed, and Bucky laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all week, until it took a bitter edge and he was hiccupping from the strain of it. Father Steve looked worried then, the Crease appearing between his eyebrows. “James, are you alright?”

Bucky just laughed a little harder and had to pull himself up so he didn’t choke on his own spit.

“OK, come on. You need some coffee.” Father Steve decided and tried, vainly, to drag Bucky up to stand. If it was any other little bloke, Bucky would have just smirked at his ineffectual attempts, but this was Father Steve so he let himself be dragged. And if he put an arm around a slim pair of shoulders and leaned against the priest’s side then nobody needed to know that it wasn’t just because Father Steve liked to think he was being helpful.

Father Steve led him into a small room off the side of the main chapel, and maybe at one point it had another, more religious, purpose, but now it seemed to have been relegated to kitchenette. The priest deposited him on a rickety, wooden chair and busied himself with a coffee pot on the stove. Old school, make-do-and-mend, Bucky thought with a smile; that was Father Steve all over.

“I gotta say, you’re a helluva lot nicer than the nuns at Sunday school,” Bucky told him.

“Tell me, have you ever tried teaching a class at Sunday School?” Steve replied mildly, still fiddling.

“No, can’t say I have.” Bucky replied and then thought back to how badly he’d behaved, just naughty enough to be a nuisance, not naughty enough to deserve the cane, “Can’t say I’d want to.”

“Then maybe you should cut them some slack, hmm?”

Bucky started laughing again, “Never thought of it that way before.”

“Well, when you’re the little guy, you see the world from a little lower down. Gives things a unique perspective.” He finally finished with the coffee pot and turned around to let it do its thing. “It doesn’t make the best coffee, but it’s strong enough to blow your socks off.” He said with a wry smile.

“Sounds good to me.” Bucky replied as Father Steve joined him at the table. The smile was softer now, almost fond, and Bucky could have sat there for hours in perfect silence, just letting Father Steve look at him like that.

But, of course, Father Steve wasn’t gonna let him get away with silence. He kept smiling in his quiet, comforting way as he spoke, “Why are you here, Bucky? It’s a Friday night; shouldn’t you be out dancing and breaking hearts?”

Bucky resisted a the bitter laugh that built up in the back of his throat and plastered on the cocky smile he usually saved the girls in the dance hall and blustered, “Well, thought maybe if I got in my church time now, I’d get to have a lie-in on Sunday.”

Father Steve looked straight through him, like he always did, “James, tell me the truth.”

“You know, you’re the only one who calls me James,” Bucky replied evasively. “Even my ma called me Bucky. My Pa was James, you know, so everyone called me Bucky and it stuck.”

“James.” Father Steve said, cutting him off before he could go any further. The Crease had deepened. “Please, tell me you haven’t got caught up in anything stupid.” There was a fear in his voice that spoke of gangs and drugs and guns; the violence plastered all over the headlines. Bucky had been desperate for money before, but he’d never been that desperate.

“Not like you’re thinking. Just my usual brand.” He tried a smirk but knew it was a weak attempt, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Then why are you in my church at midnight on a Friday night?” Father Steve asked.

Bucky shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair because it was starting to fall into his eyes. The gel he used to keep it in place was long gone, smeared over unfamiliar hands, and he dreaded to think what he looked like. He sighed, “Didn’t want to go home.”

Father Steve watched him for a few quiet seconds, waiting for him to elaborate. Bucky stayed stubbornly silent and was rewarded by the coffee starting the boil over. Father Steve shot him a look that said, ‘don’t think this is over’ before springing up to pour the coffee into waiting mugs.

“I’d offer you milk and sugar, but we don’t have any.” The priest laughed with that black edge that everyone used these days and Bucky wanted to take that blackness away because Father Steve should always be bright and stubborn and full of stupid hope.

“They say things’ll start looking up now there’s war in Europe. They’ll need supplies.” He said and then knew immediately that it was the wrong thing to say when Father Steve went still.

“You think this war’s gonna make things better?” He asked quietly, but he wasn’t looking for a real response so Bucky kept his mouth shut and just winced at the priest’s stiff, angry spine.

Father Steve turned around and placed a mug of steaming coffee in front of him. Bucky took a big gulp, even though it scalded the top layer of skin off his tongue, because at least it kept him quiet. Father Steve blew over his mug and pinned him with a determined stare. “Now, why don’t you tell me what happened tonight?”

“You don’t wanna know Father, trust me.”

“Well then, you don’t know me very well. If you think you could say anything that would surprise me, then you’re kidding yourself,” Father Steve replied with a flat, unimpressed tone and for some reason that riled him. He glared at the small priest and received a cocked eyebrow in return. “I’m a priest; I’ve heard everything there is to hear, the stories I’ve got in my head you wouldn’t-“

“I bedded a man.”

It was only after he’d said it that he’d realised the bastard had been baiting him and he’d fell for it.

“Oh,” Father Steve managed. He was gaping at Bucky like he’d just announced the apocalypse and suddenly the room was squeezing around him like that time he’d been trapped under a bed by Tommy Pinkle and he’d been sure he was going to run out of air.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled hastily, already jumping out of his seat. He spun sharply towards the door but before he could take a step, a slim, cold hand was wrapped around his wrist and suddenly Bucky was looking into Father Steve’s anxious eyes.

Bucky could have pulled out of his grasp as easy as he could from a child, but didn’t. He never would.

“Wait! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I just… I mean you’re…” Father Steve trailed off uselessly, still staring at him like Bucky had turned the world on its head. It made a sharp, frustrated anger well up in his throat until it was spitting out between his teeth and twisting his face until he was grinning like he had a mouth full of knives.

“I’m Bucky fucks-any-girl-with-half-a-pretty-face Barnes?” He replied sharply. He glanced down at the bony fingers still caught around his wrist and snarled, “Well, who knew he was just a sick, fucking faggot? You best let go quick Father, you don’t wanna catch it now, do ya?”

“Well, it’d be too damned late for that!” Father Steve exclaimed angrily.

That knocked the anger right out of him.

His mind froze as he frantically backpedalled through the last five seconds because there was no way Father Steve had just said what Bucky thought he’d heard. He stared at Father Steve, who was heaving in furious, rattling breaths, blue eyes bright and his cheeks flushed with emotion.

“You wanna run that one by me again, Father?” Bucky tried to keep his voice steady; even though his heart was banging in his chest so hard he thought he could hear it.

“I never… I never acted on it, but it’s why I joined the priesthood. I thought it might… cure me. But it didn’t.” The words rushed out, tumbling over each other like the priest had to say it before he lost his nerve and said nothing at all. Bucky swallowed and closed his eyes. He would have sent a prayer to God, but he was starting to get the feeling that God had a fucked up sense of humour.

“James?” Father Steve said tentatively after a few moments of tense silence and the name sent a shiver down Bucky’s spine.

“Fuck.” He said and he barely recognised the raw, shredded voice that came out. He shook his head disbelievingly, “You can’t tell me things like that, Father.”

“I know.” Father Steve replied a little brokenly, “And I understand if you can’t have me as your priest any more, but I just… I just wanted to show you that God… that there’s a reason for everything. My…” He bit his lip and restarted, “I joined the priesthood and it’s what I was destined to do. I can do so much good here; I can help so many people. Maybe-“

And Bucky had to cut him off there because he couldn’t listen to any more of that, “No, Father. I meant, it ain’t fair, you telling me that.” He said meaningfully and Father Steve was one of the smartest guys he knew, so he wasn’t surprised when realisation dawned on his face pretty damn quick.

“Oh…” The priest exhaled slowly, his mouth a perfect ‘o’. He was frozen in place, his hand still locked around the sleeve of Bucky’s jacket. “Oh… I didn’t think… no-one ever... And you’re…” And Bucky thought he could get addicted to the way the priest was looking at him, with wide, amazed eyes and mouth slightly parted.

But then it was gone and the slim hand on his wrist fell away as Father Steve backed up against the table behind him, his eyes forced to the ground. He was closing in on himself, locking everything back down and Bucky could just imagine the prayers running through his mind. He’d tried them all himself, after all.

They wouldn’t work. Bucky didn’t want them to work.

“Father,” he crooned and the priest froze, his hand squeezed around the table behind him. “Father,” he repeated, even slower this time, savouring it like he’d seen the high-flyers do with expensive French wine, and he could see Father Steve struggling not to look up at him, “forgive me, for I have sinned.”

Father Steve stopped staring at the floor, a bemused frown settling above his searching gaze and Bucky was a patient man, so he waited for the priest to figure out his endgame. It didn’t take long.

“J-James,” Father stuttered in a warning tone and his eyes were slightly on the side of wild, but it was too late for Bucky to listen to warnings. He shuffled forward to crowd the priest against his table and Bucky swallowed down something hungry at the want and fear that flared in the priest’s open gaze. Like everything stupid he’d ever done, once he was in his mess, Bucky hurtled full speed ahead, no matter the consequences.

“Will you hear my confession?” He murmured, deceptively innocent, and he knew the Father Steve, bound by his vows to the church and his own moral code, was unable to say no.

Father Steve made a last, desperate attempt to stop where this was going. “Confession should be done in the confessional booth,” He rebuked, but his voice came out too breathless for chiding and Bucky bulldozed over him.

“But you’re here and I’m here and there’s nobody else around to listen but God.”

Father Steve breathed slowly, in and out, through his nose, and swallowed, but eyes were transfixed and God, Bucky felt predatory. He watched the priest take another deep breath and start, “J- Mr Barnes…”

“Call me, James.” Bucky murmured, cutting him off, “I like it when you call me James.” And Father Steve got that lost look all over again and Bucky wanted to smile but he had to be serious, had to make Father Steve listen to him. “I have sinned, Father, and I need to confess. Will you listen to me?”

Father Steve closed his eyes, but the Crease was there and he was biting his lip and Bucky knew, with a deep, satisfied roar of triumph, that he’d won. “Yes,” Father Steve whispered, brokenly, “I will hear you.”

The words took his breath away.

He let the moment sink into his skin, soaking up the sight of the priest so close. His eyes were still closed, and from here he could see that his eyelashes were longer than they looked, starting out black at the top but ending in a perfect wheatfield gold at the tips. He didn’t have freckles, which Bucky had to admit he was disappointed by, but he did have the most perfect mouth Bucky had seen on anyone, man or dame. The lower lip was red from where he had been biting it and he was dying to find out just how they’d look bruised from kisses.

“I went to a queer bar tonight. I’ve been a couple of times, but I hadn’t ever worked up the balls to say yes to anyone that asked. Tonight would’ve been the same. I’d have gone home and told myself I ain’t really a fairy if I ain’t ever actually done it. ‘Cept, this guy comes into bar just as I’m thinking of leaving, little guy with blonde hair and a pretty face, and he didn’t look a thing like you but there was enough to make me think of it.”

Bucky paused because a pair of sky blue eyes snapped open and they were looking straight at him incredulously. It was addictive to think, that at that moment, Father Steve wasn’t thinking of anyone but him; not even God. So, he kept talking and knew he would keep talking all night if it meant Steve (and it was Steve he was talking to now, not the Father, not the priest, he could tell) would keep looking at him.

“So, instead of leaving, I find myself going over and asking if I can buy him a drink. He said yes, and he gave me this big ol’ grin and I reckon I was lost right about then, cuz damn if he didn’t smile just like ya.”

He watched Steve’s eyes widen and his hand reached out on its own, tucking around the sharp curve of Steve’s jaw, leaving his thumb free to smudge a path across Steve’s mouth. He followed it with his eyes. He felt Steve’s jaw clench beneath his palm and thought he’d gone too far, but Steve didn’t move and when Bucky looked back up he saw anticipation mingled with a herd of other emotions stampeding behind Steve’s clear blue eyes.

“We didn’t actually make it to a bed.” He admitted, “Just to the toilets. He wanted it bad, barely been kissing a minute before he was undoing my trousers and dropping to his knees.”

Bucky was close enough now to hear Steve’s breathing hitch and he wanted to feel the heat of it against his cheek so he leaned in to whisper the rest in Steve’s ear.  
He was good,” he drawled and let the memory of it soak into his words, “Teased me first, used his hands and his tongue before he finally took me in his mouth. And it was so dark in them toilets, it was easy to pretend it was you,” The confession lingered in the air and Bucky was rewarded with the tiniest sound, somewhere between a breath and a whimper. He felt a crooked, smug smile pull across his face and didn’t resist it. He let that cockiness lean him back and slouch his shoulders like everything he was doing came naturally. It had always worked on the girls.

“Course, then I offered to return the favour. He was hard and already leaking at the top, but he weren’t too big, so it was pretty easy to suck him.”

Steve was still staring at him, horrified and fascinated, and Bucky was getting drunk on it. So, he didn’t say that the guy was a little bit too short, that he’d had to bend his head low enough to reach him and that he still had a crick in the back of his neck. He didn’t say that it had tasted weird at first, kind of salty but sour, and he’s still not sure if he really liked the flavour. He didn’t say that he hadn’t got a clue what he was doing and the whole thing had been sloppy and halting until the guy had just held his head in place and fucked his mouth. “I closed my eyes and thought about sucking you instead, tried to imagine what you’d look like when you come,” He whispered instead, because that was true too.

Steve grabbed the lapels of his jacket and yanked and it was so unexpected that Bucky lurched forward as Steve rose up and suddenly their mouths were smashed together. Steve had no idea what he was doing; his mouth pressed into a hard, flat line and Bucky’s lower lip was crushed painfully against his teeth, but it still felt like Bucky’s best kiss in years.

He used the hand still curled around Steve’s jaw to tilt his head into a better angle and pulled away just a fraction so he could tease Steve’s mouth open and slot their lips together. Steve followed Bucky’s lead, and he was clumsy and uncertain, but quick to learn and Bucky wanted to teach him everything. He teased with butterfly kisses and besieged with deep, dirty French kisses that left Steve gasping for air. He kissed and sucked and licked and bit until Steve’s lips bloomed blood red. He wanted to kiss him for hours, one hand at the back of head and the other pressed against the small of his back, but his abused neck protested until he couldn’t ignore it any more.

He pulled away slowly, partly from reluctance, partly from the ache, and Steve made an abortive movement up to follow him. It took all his willpower not to kiss him again; neck be damned.

“Wait,” he ordered, his voice sex-rough and breathless, “up on the table.” And he was already slipping his hands beneath Steve’s thighs before he’d finished speaking. Steve was eager to help, steadying himself on the table as Bucky lifted him onto the surface. Like this, they were almost the same height and it was so, so easy to open up Steve’s mouth and slip a tongue inside.

This time Steve was more demanding, more controlling. He grabbed Bucky’s head to keep him still so he could press long, lingering kisses to his mouth and pulled away before Bucky could deepen them. He dragged his fingertips up the bare skin of Bucky’s neck into his hair and destroyed the last, tenuous hold of his gel. He tried to pull Bucky closer but was frustrated by his cassock, pulled tight over the open V of his thighs.

Bucky made quick work of that problem, bunching the material in his free hand and shoving it up Steve's legs until he could slot between them. They both groaned when Steve’s cock pressed against Bucky’s stomach and the sound bounced around the stone walls.

"The things I wanna do to you, Steve," Bucky murmured against the man's mouth, "Don't wanna stop 'til you're beggin'." His hand was stroking over Steve's legs to the bulge tenting his trousers, which was enough to make Steve's eyes flutter shut. "But these have definitely gotta come off." He added, making Steve catch his gaze with those bright, clear eyes. He was trapped, couldn't look away even as he undid Steve's belt and flicked the buttons open on his trousers. He could barely breathe when his fingertips brushed against bare skin.

He slipped his hands round to the side of Steve's pants and tucked his thumbs beneath the loose waistband, itching just to yank them down but he held back. He was determined to savour every second of this moment, because Bucky was plenty stupid, but even he was bright enough to figure out that this weren't likely to come his way a second time.

"Gonna help me out here?" He asked instead, his voice nowhere near as smooth as he would've liked. Steve didn't say anything in return, just kept those clear blue eyes on his as he tightened his legs round Bucky's hips and pushed himself off the table. With trembling fingers, Bucky eased Steve’s pants down to reveal the bulge pressing against the thick, soft cotton of his briefs.

Bucky pressed his palm against to feel the outline straining against the fabric and Steve released a long, hot exhale into the warm kitchen air. His eyes flicked down to watch. Acting bolder than he felt, Bucky gave him a playful squeeze and traced a fingertip up his length the top of his briefs, before tugging those away as well. Steve’s prick was thicker than he’d expected from such a little guy and, now free from its cotton prison, it was straining straight up, so hard it was almost pressed against Steve’s soft belly.

Steve was watching him again, looking somewhere between lost and curious.

“Well, someone looks pleased to see me,” Bucky smirked, unable to resist a tease. Steve looked like he was going to say something, but then Bucky gripped him firmly and started up a steady rhythm that knocked the breath out of the smaller guy.

“Oh,” Steve breathed, as if the divine had come down at just that moment to whisper the secret of life in his ear. It sounded damn good to Bucky, who was watching him with unabashed hunger. Steve was rolling his hips, rocking into the motions of Bucky’s hand helpfully.

“That’s it, Stevie, yeah, you look so good right now, never seen anything so good,” the words were tumbling out of his mouth without thought, just a string of consciousness that Steve seemed to drink up, leaning back with his eyes closed and licking his lips as if he was showing off.

It was only when he cracked his eyes open and shot a nervous look in Bucky’s direction that Bucky realised he was showing off.

The thought made his breath hitch and pushed himself closer into Steve’s space, “You like being looked at, Steve? Like making me hungry like this, just from seeing you.” He squeezed his hand a little tighter and Steve called out in surprise, eyes flicking all the way open to catch Bucky’s burning gaze. Whatever he saw there made him stare in amazement and Bucky took advantage by licking his way into Steve’s parted mouth.

Steve kissed him like he needed the oxygen in Bucky’s lungs to live and Bucky sped up his hand just to give him a little encouragement. Steve moaned into his mouth, his hands wrapping tight around the Bucky’s shoulders and then releasing as if he didn’t know what to do with them. Bucky grabbed one with his free hand and tugged it down, pressing Steve’s palm over the front of his trousers and rocking into it gratefully. He moaned a little to show his appreciation.

Steve sucked in breath between kisses and Bucky took a thrill at knowing it was because he was the first man, the first person, Steve had ever touched this way. Steve was bucking into his hand now, his kisses turning biting, and Bucky knew he must be close so he helped him along.

“That’s it, come on Steve, I wanna see it, I wanna see you come,” He murmured in Steve’s ear, turning his neck so it was open for Steve’s greedy mouth. Steve was grunting now, one hand braced behind him as he rutted into Bucky’s hand and rocking the table dangerously beneath him. He pulled away from Bucky’s neck, his head dropping back as he bit his lip against the sounds threatening to echo through the church. He was every bit as beautiful as any dame Bucky had been with; more so, even.

Steve came suddenly, ripping a cry from his mouth as if he hadn’t expected it. It splattered over his cassock and dripped down onto Bucky’s hand. Panting, Steve stared down at himself in surprise and then his eyes flicked up to Bucky’s. Bucky did it just to goad him, bringing his painted hand to his mouth and licking the cum off drop by drop without looking away from Steve’s astonished gaze. It was sweeter than the first guy had been, but that seemed to be just as it should be.

Bucky had stopped pressing Steve’s hand to his dick, but with Steve’s taste in his mouth, he was suddenly desperate to come. He hurriedly pulled his belt out of the way and shoved his trousers and briefs down to his knees so he could take himself in a firm, speedy hand. He leaned on the table with his other, angling closer to Steve so that he could catch his lips in a frantic kiss. It took Steve a few seconds to respond but then he was giving it back like a champ, hands diving into Bucky’s ruined hair as his tongue battled with his own. Bucky came embarrassingly fast.

For a long time, the only sound was their rough, laboured pants echoing off the bare stone. Then Bucky realised that Steve wasn’t panting but trying to hide his hyperventilating in Bucky’s shoulder.

“Steve?” Bucky queried quietly, his voice rough and shaky. He didn’t get a response. “Steve, you OK?”

Steve laughed into his shoulder, but it wasn’t a good laugh. It was short and sharp, like the kind old men gave the young bucks lining up for a piece of war glory.

“C’mon Steve, talk to me.”

“About what, exactly?” Steve replied harshly, his voice muffled by Bucky’s jacket. Bucky wanted to say something but he didn’t have an answer. Eventually, Steve spoke for him, “This can never happen again.”

“But-”

“Never, James.” Steve repeated, finally pulling away from Bucky’s shoulder but still refusing to look at him. He stared down at his ruined cassock instead and Bucky could only imagine what he was thinking. “In fact, maybe you shouldn’t come by this church for a while,” the last phrase was said quietly but there was no room for argument behind the tone.

Bucky wanted to say something, stood frozen for a moment trying to think of something, anything, that could somehow salvage this situation but nothing came. And it never would. Bucky saw now with 20/20 hindsight, that he’d just made one of the worst mistakes of his life, that he’d been pining so selfishly, so determinedly on what he wanted and couldn’t have that he hadn’t stopped to think of the cost. He would never have had Steve the way he’d desired but he could have had his friendship forever. He backed away; first one step, then another until he hit the sink. “Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“So am I.” Steve replied, but his eyes never left the floor and Bucky could tell he was waiting, that he was holding everything in until Bucky left and Bucky didn’t want to go but he couldn’t bear to stay with the distance between them growing further with every tick of the clock mounted on the wall behind him.

He fled without another word.

He never went to Father Steve’s church again.


End file.
